


The World Championships

by grantaire (alli_luvv)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, F/M, I don't think I could find whatever inspired that even if i tried, I wrote this like a really long time ago so I forget what the actual inspiration is, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Multi, World Figure Skating Championships, there's a poncho and it definitely did not come from nowhere but it's been like six years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24654286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alli_luvv/pseuds/grantaire
Summary: It was an amazing, come from behind, no one expected it to happen, least of all themselves kind of win. And at one of the most important competitions during an Olympics qualifying year, too.The French figure skating pairs are taking the world by storm, and everyone's looking to the World Championships to see who will be the team to beat.Will it be Enjolras and Cosette? Or Grantaire and Eponine?
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Courfeyrac/Jean Prouvaire, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	The World Championships

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like forever ago and only just now realized I never posted it anywhere. I read through it again and decided I like it too much not to share, so here you go!
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy it :)

It was an amazing, come from behind, no one expected it to happen, least of all themselves kind of win. And at one of the most important competitions during an Olympics qualifying year, too.

Grantaire and Eponine had been improving dramatically over the last few seasons, determined to make this their best yet. They wanted desperately to qualify for the Olympic team, now that they were finally old enough. It was their best season ever, and they managed to finally surpass Cosette and Enjolras. They took gold in Nationals, and the European Championships. Now, at Worlds, they were the favorite to win. 

After the short program, Grantaire and Eponine had been solidly in first place, a full six points ahead of the pair in second, Cosette and Enjolras. Absolutely everyone was sure that they had the gold in the bag. After all, with a lead like that going into the long, how could they lose?

Their long program was the best on the ice that season. Equal parts challenging and artistic, they performed it with a practiced ease that made it appear both effortless and impossible at the same time. It was the kind of program that the judges adored.

It all started out fine. They were skating better than they ever had before, the rush of competition and the adrenaline pouring through their veins made them faster, cleaner, smoother than they ever had been before. Then, on their second lift, everything started to go wrong.

Grantaire could tell something was off as soon as he pulled Eponine in by the waist. She had put a foot wrong and stumbled into him, nearly knocking them both down, but Grantaire managed to keep his balance and keep them upright and moving forward on the ice. That little stumble might cost them a fraction of a point, but their GOE for this lift was generally so high, it wouldn’t matter much overall. As he began to swing her up behind him, to the dramatic final pose she would make over his head, one hand on his shoulder for balance, he felt it all go wrong. Though his hands found their place on her waist to keep her in position, dangerously high above the ice, her hand missed his shoulder. She wasn’t focused, she wasn’t keeping her pose, she wasn’t holding herself tight, she was slipping, falling, crashing onto the ice. She didn’t make a sound, she was too much of a professional to do that, but Grantaire could tell from the way she avoided putting pressure on her hand and the way she moved as she picked herself up off the ice that she had hurt herself. 

Eponine shook her head when he looked at her, answering his silent question of ‘Do you need us to stop?’, so they picked up their routine after the lift, changing the double in their combination jump to a triple to try and make back some of the points they would lose from the fall. But when it came time for their final lift, by far the trickiest in their program, Eponine told Grantaire she couldn’t do it. He nodded silently, putting her into a far easier lift where he was holding all her weight for her, using two hands instead of how they usually did it. Normally, he’d hold her up with one arm and she’d help support her weight, but her injured wrist wouldn’t be able to hold the pose.

After they finished, Grantaire cursed under his breath, keeping a bright smile for the cameras trained on him. He felt absolutely awful. This was supposed to have been their moment, where they proved they truly were the best in the world and there wouldn’t be any doubt of who should be winning gold when they finally got to Sochi. Even though they were favorites to win before their disastrous long program, there were still plenty of people talking about one of the American pairs, hoping they’d unseat the reigning champions and capture the gold in the Olympic games. Now it looked like they just might. The Americans had been third after the short, if they skated better than Enjolras and Cosette now they’d surely get gold.

Grantaire took Eponine’s uninjured hand and led her off the ice to where Javert was waiting with their skate guards. He was surely going to tear into them after the kiss and cry. They’d been working with Javert for years, and he wanted nothing but perfection from his skaters. He was the kind of coach who’d tell his skaters to do a double they knew they could land on competition day rather than the triple they’d been struggling with in practice. 

“Better to get a high GOE for a lower scoring move than a low GOE for a harder move,” was his motto. Grantaire was afraid that he’d be livid for their subpar performance. There was nothing he could do about it now, though. He helped Eponine off the ice before stepping off it himself. When Javert pulled him into a hug for the cameras, he whispered in his ear.

“After the scores and the kiss and cry, Ep needs to get her hand checked out. She landed on her wrist pretty hard.” Javert nodded, and once the cameras left them he led them over to the spot where they’d wait for their scores.

“How’s your wrist, Eponine?” Javert asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“It’s pretty bad,” she replied, clutching the injured arm to her chest, “I don’t know what happened out there, all of a sudden I felt so dizzy.” The cameras came back to them then, and they automatically began to smile and wave to the audience. They mumbled out a few “Hi moms” in thickly accented English before switching back into rapid French to say the rest of their “Hi”s and “Thank you”s to the important people. Their score was announced and they tried their hardest to keep their faces in neutral expressions. It wasn’t nearly as good as they would have gotten had they skated clean, and it certainly wasn’t as good as they had been hoping, but it was good enough to keep them in first. With two pairs left to skate, it was not good enough to keep them there for long. The significant lead they’d held after the short was gone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enjolras and Cosette had seen the whole thing happen from where they waited for their turn to skate. 

“Oh my god, I hope she’s alright!” Cosette squealed when Eponine hit the ice. Despite the dramatic rivalry between their coaches, the two pairs had grown quite close over the past few years. Enjolras pulled her into him, and she buried her head in his chest, unable to watch any longer. He rubbed her back and murmured soothing words into her ear. He kept his eyes trained on the pair on the ice, unable to tear them away from the magic way that Grantaire and Eponine skated together. They were pure grace on the ice, even after a spectacular fall like that. It made him almost not mind losing to them all season. Almost.

As their program finished and they skated off the ice for the kiss and cry, Valjean nudged Enjolras and pointed in the pair’s direction.

“You two are going after the Americans, go see how they are. You’ve got time.” Enjolras nodded gratefully and pulled Cosette after him to the place where Grantaire and Eponine waited for their scores. They were waving at the cameras and saying their thank you speeches in French, as they always preferred to do at competitions on the international stage. Cosette and Enjolras stood just out of view of the cameras, and waited with them for the scores to be announced. They were all good enough friends to be genuinely disappointed when the scores were lower than the pair had hoped. Enjolras knew how hard they’d worked for this season, and he had the decency to be upset for them. The Americans, however, were high fiving each other from where they waited across the rink. The fall made it that much easier for them to win, and they were ecstatic. Enjolras scowled in their direction before leaning over to Cosette.

“Whatever happens, we have to beat the Americans,” he whispered, using French to keep the people around them from understanding what they said. He was fluent in six different languages, but he still preferred his native tongue. Cosette nodded back at him, and they continued to wait patiently for the cameras to move away from their friends. Finally, after what felt like the longest time, the Americans took the ice and all the attention shifted to them. Cosette immediately rushed to Eponine, pulling her into a big hug while taking care not to jostle her injured arm.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” she whispered, well aware of what this competition meant to Eponine, and knowing the pain of watching a dream fade away into an impossible hope herself. Eponine said nothing in return, she just collapsed into Cosette and began to sob, finally allowing herself to feel and express her pain now that the world’s gaze was no longer upon her.

“Cosette, can you take Ep to get her wrist looked at? I’ll be along in a minute, I know you guys are up soon,” Grantaire said, throwing Enjolras a look that said ‘we need to talk.’ Cosette gave him a weak smile. 

“Of course, we’ve got at least ten minutes before they’re ready for us anyways. This way, sweetie,” she murmured, slipping her slender hand in Eponine’s uninjured one and leading her to where the paramedics were set up. Grantaire headed towards the area under the stands that was for athletes and coaches only, giving Enjolras a look that said ‘follow me.’ He did, having a very good idea where this was headed, but not minding in the least.

The second they were away from the prying eyes of the public, Grantaire launched himself into Enjolras’s arms, tears streaming down his face. Not at all surprised, Enjolras caught the shorter boy, wrapped his arms around him tightly, and pressed his face into the wild dark hair that he had come to love so much. When Grantaire’s breathing finally slowed again, he pulled back to look at him.

“Tell me.” The two words, coming from Enjolras’s lips, were almost enough to make Grantaire start crying all over again. Neither of them had ever been very good at feelings or the expression of them, but they’d been working on it. Whenever they were feeling anything strongly, they were supposed to talk it out with each other. Grantaire was so touched that Enjolras was spending the few short minutes before what was probably going to be the best skate of his life comforting his competition rather than talking strategy with his partner or coach or even watching the pair that was now his toughest competition for the gold.

“I need a fucking drink,” Grantaire replied, those being the only words he could manage without breaking down completely. Enjolras laughed, knowing that that was Grantaire’s way of saying he’d be okay, he’d get over it. And he would. Grantaire knew that the placement at Worlds didn’t matter much for the Olympics. After all, Nationals was where the placing mattered for being selected to the Olympic team. The European Championship and Worlds were just how people would decide who was favored to make the podium on the Olympic stage. Still, it would’ve been really great to go into the Olympics with a perfect season. 

“I’ll take you out tonight, and we can celebrate.”

“If Ep and I can’t win, then you and Cosette better. Anything to keep the Americans from getting gold. Did you see them when the scores were announced? They fucking high fived!”

“I saw. I promise, Taire, I will make sure Cosette and I kick their asses off the top of the podium.”

“Thank you. You’re the absolute best,” Grantaire sighed, collapsing back into Enjolras’s body. The blonde boy folded his arms around him, pressing soft kisses into his hair before pulling back. The cheers of the crowd above signalled the end of the Americans’ program. Enjolras quickly pressed his lips to Grantaire’s before pulling away from him entirely.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’m up soon.”

“It’s okay, Enj. I understand. I have to go check in on Eponine anyway.” They parted, starting to head off in their separate directions when a shout from behind startled them. They turned to see Courfeyrac running towards them, calling Grantaire’s name and slipping across the floor in his socks. His skates had long ago come off, and he had been watching the broadcast waiting for the medal ceremony. 

“What the hell, Courfeyrac?” Grantaire cried.

“The Americans-” Courfeyrac huffed, out of breath from his mad dash to reach Grantaire, “they fucked up. They tried to do a quadruple toe in their combination, probably cuz they got cocky and wanted to thoroughly beat both of you, but they couldn’t do it. Both under rotated, the boy stumbled on the landing, and the girl fell on her ass. After that, the rest of their program was mediocre at best. It’s the first time they royally fucked up in a big competition, so they let it shake them.”

“Wait, do you mean what I think you mean?” Grantaire exclaimed, his eyes starting to widen with hope.

“That there’s no way in hell their score will be good enough to put them in front of you and Ep? Hell yeah!” Courfeyrac gave him a high five before Enjolras pulled him away, into a hug and started spinning him in around.

“Put me down, you jerk!” Grantaire laughed, secretly loving every second of it. 

“Never!” Enjolras cried. 

“You have to skate, you idiot.” 

“Shit,” Enjolras cursed, stopping in his tracks and nearly dropping Grantaire. He gave him a short kiss before rushing off in the direction of the ice. Grantaire rolled his eyes and stared after him affectionately. 

“You love him, don’t you?” Courfeyrac asked. Grantaire turned to him, eyes wide.

“Don’t you dare say a word to him or to anyone,” he growled.

“Do you honestly think he doesn’t know? He’s very smart.”

“Not when it comes to feelings.”

“I think you should tell him.”

“If it gets out it could ruin our careers. Remember the last time an openly gay skater competed at the Olympics? They underscored him on the long and he ended up in sixth when he was the strongest contender for the bronze at the very least.”

“Fine, let fear rule your life for the sake of a medal.”

“It’s not about the medal, Courf! It’s about keeping him safe!” Grantaire exclaimed. Courfeyrac turned to face him, confused.

“You know what an idealist Enj is. He thinks that he can change the world so that people will stop viewing everything that’s different as wrong. I don’t want him to lose that hope,” Grantaire explained.

“Like you lost yours, you mean?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They skated flawlessly. They hadn’t skated their program that well all season. It was a shame, really, that their magnificent, triumphant performance had to come on a day when the pairs that were their toughest competition skated less than their best. It made the win almost bittersweet. To skaters like Enjolras and Cosette, it felt like they didn’t truly earn it.

They stepped off the ice into the arms of the Valjeans, Jean and Fantine. Jean Valjean had been coaching them since they were four and five years old, which was the same year he had married Cosette’s mother, Fantine, and moved the whole family to the small town he’d grown up in. This performance was the product of a lifetime of work for all of them. Cosette and Enjolras put their skate guards on and headed over to the kiss and cry to wait for their scores.

They chatted nervously until the cameras turned back to them. The second the world’s gaze was upon them, cool, practiced smiles replaced their nervous expressions and Cosette slipped her hand into Enjolras’s, lacing their fingers together. Always put on a show for the cameras, Valjean liked to say. The more the public loved a pair of skaters, the more sponsors they tended to get. With their free hands, they waved and mumbled words of thanks to the important people in their lives.

Their scores were announced and they couldn’t contain themselves, they jumped up and clutched each other tightly. Their scores were not only the best they’d received all season, but also the best they’d received in their entire career. They had won the gold. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe this!” Cosette cried, finally releasing Enjolras from the death grip she had locked him in. He let out a sigh of relief, glad to be able to breathe again.

“We won, we actually did it,” he whispered in shock. Valjean and Fantine ushered the pair into the athlete’s area to wait for the medal ceremony. Grantaire and Eponine were there to meet them, huge smiles on both their faces and a brace on Eponine’s injured wrist. They hugged and laughed, delighted that Cosette and Enjolras had skated so well. 

“Congratulations!” Grantaire exclaimed, squeezing Enjolras’s hand and giving him a loving smile. Enjolras’s smile widened as he slipped an arm around Grantaire’s slim waist and led him off to go watch the rest of the competition be broadcast. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When it came time for the medals ceremony, the top three pairs stepped onto the ice. The Americans went first, as their disastrous attempt at a quadruple toe had dropped enough points off their GOE on the combination to land them in third place, behind Grantaire and Eponine. Courfeyrac had been right, after all. Grantaire and Eponine followed behind them, and helped each other up onto the podium. They smiled and waved, disappointed that they hadn’t skated their best, but still happy to have done so well. Enjolras and Cosette stepped onto the ice last, grins from ear to ear, waving and throwing kisses to the audience. Grantaire and Eponine gave them each a hand to help them get to the top of the podium.

Once all three pairs were settled in their places on the podium, the medals and flags were brought out. Cosette and Enjolras received their medals first, and then were handed a French flag to hold up behind their heads. Next, Grantaire and Eponine received their silver medals. Instead of receiving a French flag, they were handed a large poncho that was made to look like a large, wearable version of the French flag. Confused, Grantaire held up the poncho until the ceremony was over.

“Why’d we get a poncho?” Eponine whispered to him. 

“I’m guessing they ran out of flags,” Grantaire replied, “A lot of French skaters medaled this year.”

“Still, a poncho?” 

“Maybe they figured it was better than nothing. Hey, it could be fun.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Wait, and see,” Grantaire murmured with a grin.

The Americans received their medals and their flag, and the three pairs posed for pictures until they were finally allowed to step off the podium and skate off the ice. Before stepping down from the podium, Grantaire put the hood of the poncho over his head so that it would hang behind him like a cape. He leaped onto the ice before skating a couple of circles around Eponine in the Superman pose. 

“You are so ridiculous, Grantaire!” Enjolras cried, when he finally saw what his boyfriend was doing. Grantaire just laughed.

“You know you love it!” he called back. Enjolras rolled his eyes before turning back to Cosette.

“I still don’t understand how the hell you two work,” she remarked.

“Neither do I!” Enjolras replied, laughing.

Grantaire had gotten tired of the cape, so he took the poncho off his head and instead slipped it on, so that he was wearing it properly. He began to skate a victory lap around the rink, the audience cheering him on, loving every second of his antics. About halfway around he launched himself into a quadruple toe, completely showing off and playing to the audience. He and Eponine had been working on it in practice, hoping to get higher technical scores, but so far one of them had always messed up. But today he landed it completely clean, fully rotated and with perfect form. The audience went wild. They jumped to their feet, screaming and cheering his name. 

“You’re showing off,” Eponine said when he finally skated back to her.

“So?”

“I wanna wear it!”

“Not gonna happen,” Grantaire smirked, “This is too much fun.”

“You are the weirdest boy I have ever met,” Cosette stated, skating over to them.

“You’re dating Marius Pontmercy,” Grantaire said.

“And?”

“He makes me look normal.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Sorry, Cosette, but I’m gonna have to agree with Taire on this one,” Eponine piped up. Cosette glared at her.

“What?” Eponine cried, “Did you forget the time Marius showed up at Courf’s when his grandfather kicked him out for the weekend and said ‘I have come to sleep with you’ instead of ‘Hey, can I crash at your place until my grandfather stops being a dick’ like a normal person?”

“Maybe,” Cosette conceded.

“My point has been proven,” Grantaire gloated. His smile dropped off his face when he saw the dirty look Cosette was giving him. He shrugged and spun around, loving the way the poncho flared out from his body.

“I hope he realizes he’s still a huge dork,” Cosette remarked to Eponine. 

“I heard that!”

“He knows.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, they all went to the pub to celebrate, even Javert, Valjean, and Fantine. Some of the other skaters from the French team joined them there. They all wanted to celebrate a great showing at Worlds and have a night of fun before the intense training for the Olympics began. The coaches were all sitting together, a little ways away from the athletes, ignoring all the training rules that they were breaking, letting them have that one night.

Marius and Cosette were snuggled up in a booth, sitting across from Eponine and Feuilly, who were trying their hardest to avoid touching each other. Enjolras and Grantaire were sitting in the booth next to theirs, holding hands under the table, while Courfeyrac and Jehan were wrapped around each other across from them. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were sitting off in their own corner, staring into each other’s eyes and talking quietly. Bahorel was up at the bar, ordering a round for everyone, while Combeferre was pushing a table up to the booth that Enjolras was at. Young Gavroche was sitting with the adults, happy that he got to come along on the adventure, but sad that he wasn’t allowed to sit with his foster sister and her friends and teammates. 

“Come on,y’all! We should all sit together,” Combeferre drawled, his Southern accent slipping through. He had been born and raised in Georgia before moving to France when he was twelve. He started playing ice hockey and eventually became good enough to get selected to the Olympic team, along with Bahorel. Everyone was surprised that the calm, polite, and put together Southern gentleman was a star hockey player along with Bahorel the Brawler. 

“But the booths are so much nicer,” Cosette sighed, leaning into Marius’s side. 

“Fine then,” Combeferre turned to the hostess, “I hate to be an inconvenience, but is it possible to get a booth big enough for thirteen? My friends enjoy being rather difficult.”

“We have a corner booth that’s free, if you guys don’t mind squishing together?”

“I don’t think they’ll mind,” he replied, glancing at the way that his friends were already practically piled on top of each other. He gathered up their group and pushed them over to the empty booth. They ended up having to pull up a chair to fit everyone. Combeferre took the chair. Courfeyrac was immediately to his left, then Jehan, Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, Cosette, Marius, Eponine, Grantaire, Enjolras, Feuilly, and finally Bahorel directly on his right. 

“Frankly, I’m rather surprised y’all fit,” Combeferre remarked. The group began to laugh, noticing how close they’d had to sit to get all twelve in a booth meant for eight. Fortunately, the majority of them were very slim and muscular, and didn’t take up quite as much space as they might have, were they not Olympic athletes in training. Marius put his arms around Cosette and Eponine, giving them a bit more room. Grantaire and Enjolras were sitting a bit closer together than the tight space made strictly necessary, and were still holding hands under the table. Combeferre thought it a bit pointless for them to try and hide it, as everyone at the table knew they were together, and the way Enjolras was using only his left hand, despite it being his nondominant hand, made it rather obvious. Jehan was practically sitting in Courfeyrac’s lap to give him enough room on the bench. Joly was sitting so that his legs were in Bossuet’s lap, while Musichetta leaned into him on the other side. She and Cosette were deep in a discussion about the pairs skating versus ice dancing and how hardly anyone knew the difference between the two. Bossuet was excitedly telling Joly about his ideas for the articles he’d write to cover the Olympics. 

The waitress came over shortly with the round of drinks Bahorel had ordered them. Enjolras sniffed his in disgust.

“Come on, Bahorel, you know I don’t drink unless it’s wine.”

“You just won gold at Worlds, one beer won’t kill you.”

“Seriously, Enj, don’t be a buzzkill,” Eponine said, making a face at him. Enjolras glared at her and chugged his drink without breaking eye contact. Grantaire hummed in surprise.

“I’m officially impressed,” he announced. 

“I’m confused as to why you’re still wearing that fucking poncho,” Enjolras growled back.

“Yeah, seriously, isn’t it my turn to wear it yet?” Eponine whined.

“Not what I meant.”

“Ohhh, I see,” Courfeyrac cried, giving Enj a big wink and mouthing ‘Get him, tiger.’

“Also not what I meant.”

“I’m still wearing it because I look super foxy,” Grantaire spoke up. Everyone turned to look at him and collectively said, “Nope.” 

“Gee guys, thank you so much.”

“Ponchos are so 2005,” Musichetta said.

“Still not gonna take it off.”

“Why do I like you?” Enjolras sighed, exasperated.

“Because I’m super cute? I don’t know. The jury’s still out on that one.” Grantaire leaned into Enjolras and planted a big kiss on his cheek. Everyone laughed and settled back into their easy, companionable chatter, and they spent the rest of their night celebrating their success at Worlds and hoping for future success when they reached the Olympics.

“To the Olympics!” Grantaire cried, raising his glass high in the air.

“To the Olympics!” the group echoed, knocking their glasses to his.

It was a lovely night that they’d remember for years afterward, and a welcome break from the intensity of training during an Olympic year. In moments of content silence, they could hear their coaches discussing training plans. They stayed so late that Gavroche fell asleep on Javert’s lap, and Javert hardly seemed to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I had another fic in this verse that I was working on, sorta like a prequel, but it's super unfinished and it's been so long since I wrote in this verse that I'm not sure I would be able to finish it? Or if it would be any good if I tried. If y'all like this enough, I'm certainly open to giving it a go so feel free to leave a comment if you'd like it! :)


End file.
